Noon
by NotEvenTheTrees
Summary: Sometimes dreams can be predictions of reality, good or bad. Despite his love for her, will he lose her? What does she know that he doesn't?


**Happy Reader Appreciation Day!! YAY!**

**Yall may thank llynn20 for encouraging me to do a Part Two for Morning. It's very, very different from the first part, so be warned. But, there will be a part three and probably a part four. Keep that in mind. When I sent this off originally for llynn20 to read (she's returning the beta favor! And it was nice to see all the blue on my stuff!) she said, "Wow. That's what Nessie was really thinking?" And my only response was, "This is how it's always been in my head." Sometimes you can't fight it… just gotta go with it.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little piece of cliffie-filled potential goodness (or badness, depending on how you look at it). Watch for the next part! :)  
**

**

* * *

  
**

I was caught. Caught in that moment right before you fall asleep—my legs were heavy as lead pipes, my right arm was curled tight against me battling numbness, my left hand was dangling the remote off the side of our oversized couch. My eyes drooped, betraying my best effort to win the war against sleep. When I thought for sure I could make it—that I would be awake when she got home—I fell asleep.

I have to be dreaming. Even in this state of semi-consciousness she is here; of course she is. She's always wherever I am, waking or sleeping, laughing and teasing me in a way only she can do. She's just out of fingertip's reach, standing on a gently sloping hill, pale skin sparking so faintly normal eyes wouldn't notice. She's laughing, but I can't tell at what. I try and lift my hand to touch her, but it won't cooperate. So I step forward instead. She does this hoppy dance up the hill. I approach again; she dances further back. If she moves anymore, she'll be over the hill, out of sight, out of reach. Something about that hill makes me hurt. If she reaches the crest, she'll be gone. I'd lose her. I couldn't let that happen.

Quicker than I can blink, she's over the hill. Struggling to drag my arms, I roughly climb the hill, trying to catch her. When I get to the top, I stop. Stretching below me, as far as I can see, is a huge field of tall, swaying hay. I can barely make out her brown hair moving through the stalks. She's running; I follow suit. There's no reason I shouldn't be able to catch her, but as soon as I get close enough to try and touch her, she's gone, out of reach, as light as a blowing leaf. I start after her again, call for her to wait, but she only looks back at me over her shoulder, her tinkling laughter barely reaching my sensitive ears, blows me a kiss and keeps going.

Even chasing her, I can make out every minute detail. The way her brown hair caresses her back. Her green eyes were so like her father's—they always seem to catch me by surprise—are so honest they demand honesty in return. And her smile? Oh, her smile could melt the hardest heart. She has her mother's smile.

She's even further away now. I sped up, pushing myself, hard, harder. But I can't catch her. She's out of sight. She's gone.

I'd lost her.

Despair washes over me. Without her, I don't know myself. Panic starts to build. She was gone.

Before I could even muster a tear, I hear her. Faint, but undoubtedly her. Calling my name. She was coming back! Her voice grew louder, louder, louder until she was practically shouting at me.

I gasp, sucking in air. My eyes shoot open. I sit up so fast, I practically throw her on the floor. Not surprisingly, her reflexes kept her on her feet. I look at her, trying to catch my breath.

"You sleep like a dog," she teases, green eyes full of mischief. I attempt to laugh along with her, but the sound that reverberates is hollow, almost insincere. I'm still trying to shake off the dream.

Getting up, I walk into our bedroom. She follows, concerned.

"What's wrong? What happened?" She wraps her slim arms around me and almost instantly I feel better. Whole.

I turn to face her, smiling. "Just dreams. For a minute, I felt like your crazy 'I know the future' aunt." She swats me on the arm. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough.

"You've never gotten used to that, huh? After all these years?" I shrug. "What was it about?"

Needing physical reassurance, I close the small gap of wasted space between us. I move my hands up her arms slowly and rest them just under her jaw, my thumbs moving over her bottom lip. Her eyes glisten with unanswered questions. I silence her with a kiss. I feel her go weak in my arms.

No matter how many days go by, no matter how many times we move, no matter who we've lost, I know I can always come back to her and everything stops. The world is righted, if only for those few minutes we're joined.

"Not so fast, buster." She pulls away, fixing me with a steely look.

"I wish I could show you; it would be so much easier. You'd understand better."

"The leaving dream?"

My silence confirms her theory. She goes uncharacteristically quiet. I can sense her drawing into herself. I let her; sometimes words are hard. Eventually, she holds up her hand.

"May I?"

I nod. She touches her fingers to my cheek.

My mind goes black.

She starts flashing images, dark and violent, so quick and severe, I'm left longing for the emotion of my now mild dreams.


End file.
